


two-thousand eight-hundred miles between

by avius



Category: Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: A lot of swearing and self doubt, Ambiguous Relationships, Andrew is Sleep Deprived, Canon, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Steven in New York, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 03:57:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15721506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avius/pseuds/avius
Summary: Andrew had always tried very hard not to think about it. He had always been - used to be, he corrects - good at that; but it was at times like these, he thought of Steven.(Andrew doesn’t mean to imply that he never spends a conscious moment thinking of his colleague, friend, (dear friend), but at these times, the thoughts become less about Steven, and Andrew, and more about StevenandAndrew.): Steven is in New York and Andrew is in his own head. :





	two-thousand eight-hundred miles between

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kopfkinote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kopfkinote/gifts).



> uh im not very Integrated into the bfwi fandom bc i dont use tumblr anymore but i still love my foodie boys (and also kopf, who inspired this fic and always cheers me up with their rants abt bfwi) so! enjoy

Andrew had always tried very hard not to think about it. He had always been - used to be, he corrects - good at that; burying burdens below deadlines and creative sparks and endless emails. He wasn’t robotic in that way, just sensible. It was more sensible to be productive than think and think and think until the sun set and rose again outside the large office windows. If he wasn’t able to shut his brain off, he may as well keep the engine warm for good use. This very habit of his, however, had recently become self-detrimental. 

It was some point after two a.m. in the Buzzfeed offices. (He hadn’t wanted to check the time since his last coffee run to the break room, he didn't want to think about it.) His eyes had glazed over, editing schedule spreadsheets reflected in his glossy pupils, but his mind was far from inactive. There was a pull of sleepy weariness that had lodged itself in the join of his skull and nape, urging him further away from his mental circuitry he had tried so hard to rutt into. It was at times like these, beyond the help of coffee and mint ice water, that his habitual thoughts shut down. It was at these times, he thought of Steven. 

(Andrew doesn’t mean to imply that he never spends a conscious moment thinking of his colleague, friend, (dear friend), but at these times, the thoughts become less about Steven, and Andrew, and more about StevenandAndrew.)

It doesn’t take rose-tinted lenses to realise that Steven is one of the greatest people Andrew has ever known. The uninformed masses are often quick to label people like Steven. Andrew happened to witness this first hand. Before their series together, Andrew had nothing else to go by but first impressions when it came to Steven Lim. 

Steven Lim seemed young in most aspects. His features were soft and childlike, smile broad and far too trusting, the shake in his knee equal parts naive excitement and inexperienced nerves. It wasn’t a bad thing, but initially Andrew found his freshness irritating, if not intimidating. Andrew, with his drawn brow and dependable shoulders, felt he had never been able to experience such a phase, had never clung to such vitality, before he forced the world to thrust itself upon his back. In the ways that Steven seemed jitteringly natural, Andrew felt stoically forced. It was contrasting, blindingly so, and Andrew, at the time, was sure they weren’t contrasting in the complementary way.

Andrew, lazily, foolishly, had hoped that in learning about, (with,) Steven, he would be able to rewrite these miscalculated assumptions. Unfortunately, he found himself trading his pencil for an eraser and more questions then he began with.

Viewers of the show were quick to categorise the pair into neat archetypal squares. They were human, it was to be expected; but Andrew felt he was the only person who knew it was all so wrong. How was he the more mysterious? How did he spark the most intrigue? How was he considered so complex and unreadable and contradictory when sat shoulder to shoulder with Steven (fucking) Lim. 

Ping. 

‘i still can’t believe i get to have actual nyc pizza for breakfast everyday ( ˘0˘)っ▽, (even tho it doesn’t taste as good without your cheers). you better not be still up working or i’ll fly over there and slap you into a coma with this slice (ง •̀_•́)ง. s.’

Steven, you considerate asshole. Andrew had stopped working hours ago and it was all your fault.

The fault of your dumb confidence to be exactly who you are without fearing the anxieties that always flush you afterwards, your dumb metaphors and analogies that tumble from that fascinating mind directly into the word without pause, your dumb mind that runs like a limitless tap of energy and creativity, your dumb blinding smile that splits your face and everyone’s sadness in two, your dumb eyes that bore deep into another's with layers of concern and yearning to help, your dumb lips- 

Ping.

‘read receipts exist dummy (;¬‸¬). it’s nearly 4am, please sleep or i'll get adam to cancel all of your shoots tomorrow.’

Andrew tried to maintain the derailment of his thoughts. If there was one of the pair that deserved alignment into a square of ‘dumb’, it had to be Andrew. How was Steven so smart?

Andrew put his phone back on his desk with a resigned thud and ran his hand down his face. He hadn’t shaved in a few days. The crackly stubble lining his jaw and chin collided sharply with his fingers, sore from overuse at the keyboard.

The office elevator was cold and metallic, and sat like the loneliness that crept up Andrew’s throat. He already felt he was dreaming, mind pliant in Steven’s touch now that the other had inched his way further into his mind. Steven was like that; occupying, taking a piece of whatever Andrew had, not with self-assuredness, but simply because that is how it always happened. Andrew wondered, as the red LEDs above his line of eye flickered from 7 to 6 to 5, if Steven knew of his own impact. Andrew knew, like most things, he was probably just oblivious in the unassuming way, never entertaining the thought that his intricate mind could captivate another’s, but Andrew felt that it was all apart of Steven’s charisma. 2, 1, G, B1; the doors dinged as the lurched apart. Andrew didn’t want to leave the thoughts of Steven behind.

Andrew awoke with a sore neck and a dry mouth. It took three disorienting seconds before Andrew realised he was curled in upon himself in the driver's seat of his car, still within the Buzzfeed parking lot. Somehow, amidst the flurries of Steven, his sleep ridden brain was still able to decide it was best he didn’t drive. It was then, as his eyes fully readjusted to not being sealed shut, he came face to face with the indifferent but ever-so-slightly bemused smirk of Adam Bianchi. Coffee in hand, he knocked on the driver’s side window once more with a little more noise than required.

Andrew could tell by the knot deep in his neck, he was destined to be grumpy for the rest of the day, but being interrupted from a warm hand on his spine and smile laced kisses along his jugular was the truffle-infused icing on the one-thousand dollar cake. Or whatever.

(That would taste revolting. He supposed he just misses truffle.)

(He just misses Steven.)

With a resigned sigh, Andrews finger found the window button and the low hum of the outside world flooded his little Steven-tinted sanctuary. Although stuffy and pungently like concrete, the fresh air sharpened his senses and sent a jolt of brisk energy through his blood stream. Adam’s smirk remained put.

“Coffee, for the sleepyhead,” Adam snorted, but the softness to his tone reminded Andrew of a doting older brother. At this point, Andrew was glad for any affection he could get in such a stand-offish state. The shitty office mug found his lips within seconds and he immediately guzzled down the scolding drink. “Don’t drink too fast, your taste-buds are a prime asset,” Adam scoffed.

Andrew stretched in his seat, gathering the miscellaneous shit - wallet, phone, keycard, meeting notes - he had spread between pockets and the bag at his feet. Turning to Adam, Andrew laughed, and waited expectantly for the other to move away from the door so they could get to work. When their gaze met upon a lack of movement, it was evident that apprehension clouded Adam’s naturally busied eyes. Andrew found himself struck with a dazed sense of dread.

“They’re not burnt, don’t worry,” he said with a squeaky chuckle, trying to alleviate whatever unsettling tension had weaved its way into the space between them. 

Adam seemed to be contemplating something rather painful, if his grimace was anything to go by, but sighed, his mouth opening (and closing and opening again). “Retrospectively, it won’t be that big of a deal.”

As he trailed of weakly, Andrew froze. So many sentences could follow that one - none of which seem to be something Andrew wanted any part of. Adam, ever empathetic to Andrew, slid away from the door, to pull at the handle. Andrew didn’t care about whatever news Adam had to share. He just wanted to get to his desk and sort through the last of his emails before their 10am shoot.

Adam said nothing in response, his long legs simply following the other until their shoulders brushed in front the elevator doors. The call button seemed to be working antagonising slow, and Andrew considered taking the stairs until Adam spoke once more.

“It’s, um, three pm. Just in case you hadn’t checked the time.”

Ding.

“How the fuck?” Andrew all but spluttered, watching dumbstruck as Adam stepped calmly inside the lift.

Adam just smiled, a tinge of pity and something more distant balanced on his teeth. “As I said, in retrospect.”

Right, okay, all Andrew had to do was reschedule an entire Tasty video and upwards of three meetings. It was fine. Simple fixes, nothing unlike many challenges before this as it is in such a flexible career choice.

But of course, it’s not that simple. Of course.

It’s Steven (fucking) Lim.

At his desk, in the broad daylight of the Californian sunshine, pen absentmindedly between teeth as his feet toe Andrew’s chair from side to side.

Steven, with his distracting laugh and shoulders and hair- why hadn’t there been any instagram posts of his newly dyed black hair? Andrew felt Adam’s hand on his shoulder, prompting him to step out of the elevator. 

“His idea, entirely.” Adam’s voice was low and snarky in his ear. Andrew felt that even 12 hours of car-cramped sleep was still reasonable enough justification for hallucinations, right?

No, apparently not, as Steven spins the chair a little to far and his eyes fall on the pair by the elevator and his entire face lights up in recognition (or maybe- no, Andrew’s brain, nothing but recognition).

His feet walked on their own accord, knees breaking free from their locked stupor, crossing the distance to the familiar workspace with an unfamiliar feeling unable to be pinned down. Steven just smiled, chin tilting up to lock eyes with Andrew’s own. 

“I warned you,” Steven grinned, teasingly prodding Andrew’s chest that stood centimetres away from his face. Andrew felt every inch of his skin set alight with prickling nerves. He remained silent. 

“It’s my off day,” Steven said, resolve weakening albeit still fierce, as if that would soothe the bile that churns in Andrew’s tumble-dryer stomach. Everyone who should know does know that there’s no such thing as an off day in the business of internet video content creation. Certainly not one that has allowance for a six hour flight to the otherside of the country on a whim. Andrew didn’t voice that.

“Adam said you fell asleep in the parking lot when I texted him to cancel your schedule,” Steven said matter of factly, eyes less cheeky and more concerned, more guilty, as if it was Steven’s fault Andrew hasn’t slept comfortably since he left to go to New York. “Which means you were still up and working at four a.m., which means-”

“What the fuck Steven Lim?” Andrew’s voice slightly cracked as he finally broke his silence. Steven just smiled, a little flustered but also a little fond, and lifted a thumb behind him. Andrew’s gaze followed, at once very aware at the eyes of over half the floor on him and the snickers that accompanied.

Steven stood and looped his arm around Andrew’s, pulling him with minimal force. Andrew tried not to be overwhelmed by the scent of cucumber shampoo that he had come to long for.

Andrew’s mind, for the first time in the very long day, began to think at a million miles a second. Steven had barely pulled them both into an empty hallway around the corner before Andrew’s brain began to spin in overdrive.

Steven turned back to Andrew, barely exhaling before he collided their faces together and Andrew melted into Steven’s touch.

Their lips, their chests, their cheeks, their hands. This closeness, Andrew thought as Steven tilted his head to deepen the kiss by a fraction, was only compensation for so much distance. But he pulled away as quickly as he was pulled in, eyes searching Steven’s.

“Oh,” Steven muttered, seemingly equally at a loss for words.

Andrew liked the sight of bitten lips and pink-tinged ears. He nodded, absorbing in the sight whilst being overly conscious of checking for discomfort from his friend (or whatever they were now).

“So that happened. I didn’t think before I did that,” he said, calmly, processing. Andrew just nodded.

“So are we, um, do you want to talk about that… or?” Steven’s voice climbed higher as it trailed off, and Andrew felt his heart soaring in chase of it. He shook his head and puckered his lips like a schoolboy.

“Nah, just kiss me again,” he said, tone low and teasing, but intent very much transparent. He could feel the tight cling of Steven’s fingernails through the thin fabric of yesterday’s button up. “We can’t kiss when you’re back in New York.” 

Steven snorted, rosy hue still vibrant but shock and apprehension entirely flushed from his system. “Up until now I wasn’t aware we could kiss when I was here.”

The giggle to his tone felt like the comforting billow of steam from a warm broth against Andrew’s cheek. He bit on his lip to stop himself from grinning like a giddy idiot. “Neither. I would have opened your late night texts as soon as they came through a lot more often.”

Steven pulled back and hit his chest in mock scandal. “I knew it! Why did I even bother saying good morning when you were awake to receive them every night.” 

Andrew’s hands, splayed across Steven’s shoulder blades, looped around his waist to yank him closer again. Steven hadn’t moved his own from Andrew’s chest. He ducked his head. “I’m glad you did.” 

Steven hummed warmly, the vibrations jumping the short distance between their chests and shaking Andrew’s heartstrings. “I’m glad I did too.”

He lifted his face, nose brushing with Andrew’s, and Andrew wasn’t sure if it was the coffee finally taking effect or if it was that he’d found himself a universe within the eyes in front of him but, his heart began to thudder in his chest. Their foreheads rested on one another’s.

Steven pecked his lips lightly. “And I’m glad I told Adam to let you sleep all day.” Another peck. “And I’m glad I bought a plane ticket while eating shitty Andrew-less pizza for one.” Another. “And I’m glad you kissed me. Truly.”

The sincerity in Steven’s eyes brought Andrew whirling back to reality. Andrew, with his dumb coping mechanisms and dumb over analyzing brain and dumb stubbornness, and everything that Steven was not. Andrew felt reminiscent of the first time he had ever talked to Steven, so irritated and intimidating (and so fucking attracted) to the comfortable state of contrast. But then, his gaze searching Steven’s, he felt the aching familiarity of working things out, sanding edges of their differences until they fit together like their locked lips. Andrew had always tried very hard not to think about it, but this time, he wanted to.

**Author's Note:**

> twit: @kinglychan (its mainly kpop tho sorry ladz)


End file.
